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Our Little French Cousin 


The Little Cousin Series 

ILLUSTRA TED 

& 

By Mary Hazelton Wade 

Our Little African Cousin 
Our Little Armenian Cousin 
Our Little Brown Cousin 
Our Little Cuban Cousin 
Our Little Eskimo Cousin 
Our Little German Cousin 
Our Little Hawaiian Cousin 
Our Little Indian Cousin 
Our Little Irish Cousin 
Our Little Italian Cousin 
Our Little Japanese Cousin 
Our Little Jewish Cousin 
Our Little Mexican Cousin 
Our Little Norwegian Cousin 
Our Little Philippine Cousin 
Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 
Our Little Russian Cousin 
Our Little Siamese Cousin 
Our Little Swiss Cousin 
Our Little Turkish Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little English Cousin 
Our Little French Cousin 

By Elizabeth Roberts MacDonald 

Our Little Canadian Cousin 
By Isaac Taylor Headland 

Our Little Chinese Cousin 
By H. Lee M. Pike 

Our Little Korean Cousin 

& 

Each volume illustrated with six full-page plates in tint, from original 
drawings. 

Cloth, i2mo, with decorative cover, per volume, 60 cents. 

& 

L. C. PAGE & COMPANY 
New England Building, Boston, Mass. 




















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GERMAINE 



❖ 


Our Little French 
Cousin 


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Boston 

L. C. Page & Company 

MDCCCCV 


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By 

Blanche McManus 

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Illustrated, by 


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The Author 

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JUN 21 iy05 

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Copyright , iqog 
By L. C. Page & Company 

(incorporated) 

All rights reserved 



Published May, 1905 


COLONIAL PRESS 

Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds &° Co. 
Boston , U.S.A. 


Preface 


“ Our Little French Cousin ” is an attempt 
to tell, in plain, simple language, something of 
the daily life of a little French girl, living in a 
Norman village, in one of the most progressive 
and opulent sections of France. 

The old divisions, or ancient provinces, of 
France each had its special characteristics and 
manners and customs, which to this day have 
endured to a remarkable extent. 

To American children, no less than to our 
English cousins, the memories of the great 
names of history which have come down to us 
from ancient Norman times are very numerous. 

Besides the great Norman William who 
conquered England, and Richard the Lion- 


VI 


Preface 


hearted, there are the lesser lights, such as 
Champlain, La Salle, and Jean Denys, — the 
discoverer of Newfoundland; and before them 
was the Northman ancestor of Rollo, Lief, the 
son of Eric, who was perhaps the real discov- 
erer of America. All these link Normandy 
with the New World in a manner that is per- 
haps not at first remembered. 

“Our Little French Cousin” lives in Nor- 
mandy, simply because she must live some- 
where, and not because any attempt has been 
made to specialize or localize the every-day 
life of Germaine, her parents, and her friends. 
Indeed, for a little French girl, it may be 
thought that she had remarkable opportunities 
for acquaintanceship with the outside world. 

But to-day even little French girls live in a 
progressive world, and what with tourists and 
automobilists, to say nothing of a reasonably 
large colony of English-speaking folk who had 
actually settled near her home, it was but nat- 


Preface 


vii 

ural that her outlook was somewhat different 
from what it might have been had she lived a 
hundred years ago. 

So far as France in general goes, the great 
world of Paris, and much that lay beyond, 
were also brought to her notice in, it is be- 
lieved, a perfectly rational and plausible fash- 
ion ; and thus within the restricted limits of 
this little book will be found many references 
to the life and history of Old France which, in 
one way or another, has linked itself with the 
early days in the history of America, in a 
manner of which little American cousins are 
in no way ignorant. 

Joliet, Champlain, La Salle, Pere Mar- 
quette, and many others first pointed the way 
and mapped out the civilization of America, 
when it was but the home of the red man, now 
so nearly disappeared. 

Later came Lafayette and Rochambeau, 
who were indeed good friends to the then new 


Preface 


viii 

nation, and lastly, if it is permissible to think 
of it in that light, the great Statue of Liberty, 
in New York Harbour, is another witness of 
the friendliness of the French nation for the 
people of the United States. A reciprocal 
echo of this is found in the recent erection, in 
Paris, of a statue of Washington. 

To her cousins across the sea little Ger- 
maine, cc Our Little French Cousin,” holds 
out a cordial hand of greeting. 

Les Andelys , Eure , January , 1905. 


Contents 


I. At the Farm of La Chaumiere 

II. To Rouen on a Barge . 

III. The Fetes at Rouen 

IV. Going Home by Train 

V. The Market at Grand Andelys 

VI. Germaine and the Artist 

VII. The Fete of St. Sauveur 

VIII. An Automobile Journey . 


PAGE 

I 

23 

41 

62 

71 

83 

92 

107 



List of Illustrations 


♦ 

PAGE 

Germaine Frontispiece - 

The Farm of La Chaumiere . . . . 8 ^ 

“The city began to unfold before them” . 40 

The Market - square 75^ 

The Circus . . 100 ^ 

Chateau Gaillard 106 


ROUEN 



LE5 ANDE.LY5 

Jf LA ROCHE GUYON 


PONT oe L’ARCHtK 

VERNON * 
MANTES 
evreu/« 


REIMS V. 

* DOMflEMY 


ORLEANS 


3i^Co,>e 

. ’tours 
CHI/VON 


LYOW 5 


•j BORDEAUX 


MARSEILLE. 


Our Little French Cousin 


CHAPTER L 

AT THE FARM OF LA CHAUMIERE 

cc Oh, mamma ! ” cried little Germaine, as 
she jumped out of bed and ran to the window, 
cc how glad I am it is such a beautiful day.” 

Germaine was up bright and early on this 
sunshiny day, for many pleasant things were 
going to happen. However, this was not her 
only reason for early rising. French people 
always do so, and little French children are 
not allowed to lie in bed and to be lazy. 

At the first peep of daylight Germaine’s 
papa and mamma were up, and soon the 
“ little breakfast,” as it is called, was ready in 

X 


2 Our Little French Cousin 


the big kitchen of the farmhouse. Even the 
well-to-do farmers, like Germaine's papa, eat 
their meals in their kitchens, which are also 
used as a general sitting-room. 

Everything about a French house is very 
neat, but especially so is the kitchen, whose 
bare wooden or stone floor is waxed and 
polished every day until it shines like polished 
mahogany. On the mantelpiece of the kitchen 
of Germaine's home, which was more than 
twice as tall as Germaine herself, was a long 
row of brass candlesticks, a vase or two, and 
a little statue of the Madonna with flowers 
before it. 

The fireplace took up nearly all of one 
side of the room, and was so large that it 
held a bench in either side where one could 
sit and keep nice and warm in winter. Hang- 
ing in the centre, over the fire, was a big crane, 
— a chain with a hook on the end of it on 
which to hang pots and kettles to boil. There 


At the Farm of La Chaumiere 3 

were beautiful blue tiles all around the fire- 
place, and a ruffle of cloth along the edge of 
the mantel-shelf. 

Not far from the fireplace was a good cook- 
ing-stove, for the better class farmers do not 
cook much on the open fire, as do the peas- 
ants. 

All about the walls were hung row after row 
of copper cooking utensils of all kinds and 
shapes, all highly polished with “ eau de cui- 
vre .” Madame Lafond, Germaine’s mamma, 
prided herself on having all her pots and pans 
shine like mirrors. 

“ Be quick, my little one,” said Madame 
Lafond, as Germaine seated herself at the 
table in the centre of the room. “ You have 
much to do, for, as you know, we are to see 
M. Auguste before we go to meet Marie; 
and we must finish our work here, so as to be 
off at an early hour.” 

Germaine’s breakfast was a great bowl of 


4 Our Little French Cousin 

hot milk, with coffee and a slice from the big 
loaf lying on the bare table. The French 
have many nice kinds of bread, and what they 
call household bread, made partly of flour and 
partly of rye, is the kind generally eaten by 
the country people. It is a little dark in col- 
our, but very good. 

It was to-day that Germaine was to go with 
Madame Lafond to the station at Petit Ande- 
lys to meet her sister Marie, who had been 
away at a convent school at Evreux, and who 
was coming home for the summer holidays. 
On their way they were to stop at the Hotel 
Belle Etoile, for it was the birthday — the fete- 
day, as the French call it — of their good 
friend the proprietor, M. Auguste, and Ma- 
dame Lafond was taking him a little present 
of some fine white strawberries which are quite 
a delicacy, and which are grown only round 
about. M. Lafond was to meet them at the 
station, and all were to take dinner with her 


At the Farm of La Chaumiere 5 

Uncle Daboll at his house in the village, to 
celebrate Marie’s home-coming. 

So, as may be imagined, Germaine did not 
linger over her breakfast, but set to work at 
her morning tasks with a will. 

“ Blanche, you want your breakfast, too,” 
she said, as she stroked her pet white turtle- 
dove, who had been walking over the table 
trying to attract her attention with soft, deep 
“ coos,” “ and you shall have it here in the 
sunshine,” and, putting her pet on the deep 
window-ledge, she sprinkled before it a boun- 
tiful supply of crumbs. “ That, now, must 
last until I get back.” 

“ Now, come, Raton,” she called to their 
big dog. “We must feed the rabbits,” and, 
taking a basket of green stuff, she ran across 
the courtyard into the garden. 

In France the farm buildings are often built 
around an open square, which is entered by a 
large gate. This is called a closed farm. In 


6 Our Little French Cousin 

olden times there were also the fortified farms, 
which were built strongly enough to with- 
stand the assaults of marauders, and some of 
these can still be seen in various parts of the 
country. 

The gateway was rather a grand affair, with 
big stone pillars, on top of which was a stone 
vase, and in the gate was a smaller one, which 
could be used when there was no need to open 
the large one to allow a carriage or wagon to 
enter. 

On one side of the yard was the laiterie> 
where the cows were kept and milked. There 
were a number of cows, for M. Lafond sold 
milk and butter, carrying it into the market at 
Grand Andelys. 

On another side was the stable, where were 
kept the big farm-horses, — Norman horses as 
we know them, one of the three celebrated 
breeds of horses in France. Near by were 
the wire-enclosed houses for the chickens and 


At the Farm of La Chaumiere 7 

geese and the ducks, which ran about the yard 
at will and paddled in the little pond in one 
corner. 

In the centre was the pigeon-house, a large, 
round, stone building, such as will be seen on 
all the old farms like this of M. Lafond’s. It 
was an imposing structure, and looked as if it 
could shelter hundreds of pigeon families. 
Under a low shed stood the farm-wagons and 
the farming tools and implements. 

La Chaumiere , as the farm was known, 
took its name from the thatch-covered cottage. 
Many of the houses in this part of the country 
have roofs thatched with straw, as had the 
other buildings on the farm. Germaine’s 
home, however, had a red tile roof, though it 
was thatched in the olden days, for it had been 
in M. Lafond’s family for many generations. 

On the opposite side of the house was the 
garden, surrounded by a high wall finished off 
with a sort of roof of red tiles. The square 


8 Our Little French Cousin 


beds of fine vegetables were bordered by flow- 
ers, for in France the two are usually cultivated 
together in one garden. Against the wall were 
trained peach, pear, and plum trees, as if they 
were vines; this to ripen the fruit well. In a 
corner were piled up the glass globes, — shaped 
like a bell or a beehive, — which are used to 
put over the young and tender plants to pro- 
tect them and hasten their growth. 

Against one corner of the wall were the 
hutches for the rabbits, built in tiers, one above 
the other, and full of dozens of pretty “ bun- 
nies,” white, black and white, and some quite 
black. 

It was Germaine’s duty to feed them night 
and morning, and she liked nothing better 
than to give them crisp lettuce and cabbage 
leaves and see them nibble them up, wriggling 
their funny little noses all the time. “Well, 
bunnies, you will have to eat your breakfast 
alone this morning ; I cannot spare you much 



THE FARM OF LA CHAUMIERE 


i 



At the Farm of La Chaumiere 9 

time,” Germaine told them, as she gave them 
the contents of her basket. Raton was leaping 
beside her and barking, for he was a great pet, 
and more of a companion than most dogs in 
French farms. They are usually kept strictly 
for watch purposes, the poor things being tied 
up in the yard all of the time ; but Germaine's 
people were very kind to animals, and Raton 
did much as he pleased. 

“ I am ready, mamma,” said Germaine, run- 
ning into the kitchen. 

tc So am I, my dear,” and Madame Lafond 
took from behind a copper saucepan hanging 
on the wall a bag of money, from which she 
took some coins and put the bag back again 
in this queer money-box. She then placed the 
basket of strawberries on their bed of green 
leaves on her arm, and she, Germaine, and 
Raton set off*. 

Madame Lafond had on a neat black dress, 
very short, and gathered full around the waist. 


io Our Little French Cousin 


and a blue apron. Her hair was brushed back 
under her white cap, and on her feet she wore 
sabots , the wooden shoes all the working peo- 
ple in the country wear. 

Germaine’s dress was her mothers in minia- 
ture, and her little sabots clacked as she ran 
down the road, carrying in her hand a pot 
holding a flower, carefully wrapped about with 
white paper for M. Auguste. It was a beauti- 
ful walk through the fields and apple orchards, 
into the road, shaded by old trees that led to 
the top of the hill, and then down the hillside 
past the old Chateau Gaillard ; that wonderful 
castle whose history Germaine never wearied 
of hearing. 

It seemed to her like a fairy-tale that such 
things could have happened so near her papa’s 
farm, though it all took place, many hundreds 
of years ago, when there was nothing but wild 
woods where now stands their farm and those 
of their neighbours. 


At the Farm of La Chaumiere 1 1 


The chateau was built by the great Norman 
who became an English king. He was known 
as Richard the Lion-hearted, because he was 
so brave and fearless. Perhaps our little Eng- 
lish cousins will remember him best by this 
romantic story. Once King Richard was im- 
prisoned by his enemies, no one knew where ; 
his friends had given him up for lost — all but 
his faithful court musician Blondel, who went 
from castle to castle, the length and breadth of 
Europe, singing the favourite songs that he and 
his royal master had sung together. One day 
his devotion was rewarded, for, while singing 
under the windows of a castle in Austria, he 
heard a voice join with his, and he knew he had 
found his master. 

At that time France was not the big country 
it is now. Normandy belonged to the English 
Crown, and the Kings of France were always 
trying to conquer it for their own. 

So Richard built this strong fortress on the 


12 Our Little French Cousin 

river Seine, at the most important point where 
the dominion of France joined that of Nor- 
mandy. He planned it all himself, and, it is 
said, even helped to put up the stones with his 
own hands. It was begun and finished in one 
year, and when the last stone was placed in 
the big central tower, King Richard cried out : 
“ Behold my beautiful daughter of a year.” 
Then he named it Chateau Gaillard, which is 
the French for “ Saucy Castle,” and stood on 
its high walls and defied the French king, 
Philippe-Auguste, who was encamped across 
the river, to come and take it from him, — 
just as a naughty boy puts a chip on his 
shoulder and dares another boy to knock it 
off. Well, the French king took his dare, 
but he also took care to wait until the great, 
brave Richard had been killed by an arrow in 
warfare. Then for five months he and his 
army besieged the castle, and a desperate fight 
it was on both sides. At last the French 


At the Farm of La Chaumiere 13 

forced an entrance. After that, for several 
hundred years, its story was one of bloody 
deeds and fierce fights, until another French 
king, Henri IV., practically destroyed it, in 
order to show his power over the Norman 
barons whom he feared ; and so it stands to- 
day only a big ruin — but one of the most 
splendid in France. 

Germaine often wondered why it was called 
cc Saucy,” for it did not look so to her now. 
The big central tower with its broken windows 
seemed to her like an old face, with half-shut 
eyes and great yawning mouth, weary with 
its struggles, leaning with a tired air against the 
few jagged walls that still stood around it. 

But it looked very grand for all that, and 
Germaine was fond of it, and she with her 
cousin Jean often played about its crumbling 
walls. Jean would stand in the great broken 
window and play he was one of the archers of 
King Richard's time, with a big bow six feet 


14 Our Little French Cousin 

long in his hand, and arrows at his belt, and 
that he was watching for the enemy who 
always travelled by the river, for in those days 
there were few roads, and journeying by boat 
on the river was the most convenient way to 
come and go. 

There is no finer outlook in all France than 
from King Richard's castle at Petit Andelys, 
for one can look ten miles up the river on one 
side and ten miles down on the other. Thus 
no one could go from France into Normandy 
without being seen by the watchman on the 
tower of the Chateau Gaillard. Three hundred 
feet below is the tiny village of Petit Andelys, 
looking like a lot of toy houses. 

As they entered the main street of the vil- 
lage, Madame Lafond stopped at the Octroi , to 
pay the tax on her strawberries. All towns in 
France put a tax on all produce brought into 
the town, and for this purpose there is a small 
building at each entrance to the town where 


At the Farm of La Chaumiere 15 

every one must stop and declare what they 
have, and pay the small tax accordingly. 

“ I hear the c Appariteur ,’ ” said Germaine, 
as they walked down the narrow cobble-paved 
street, “ I wonder what he is calling out.” 
The c< Appar it eur” is a sort of town-crier, who 
makes the announcements of interest to the 
neighbourhood by going along the streets 
beating a drum and crying out his news, while 
the people run to the windows and doors to 
listen. It takes the place of a daily newspaper 
to some extent, and costs nothing to the 
public. 

They were soon at the Hotel Belle Etoile, 
and found stout, good-natured M. Auguste at 
the entrance, seeing some of his guests off. 
He was delighted with the strawberries, and 
when Germaine gave him the bouquet of 
flowers, with a pretty little speech of congratu- 
lation for his birthday, he kissed her, French 
fashion, on both cheeks, and took them into 


1 6 Our Little French Cousin 


the cafe, where he gave them a sweet fruit- 
syrup to drink. It is always the custom 
among our French cousins to offer some kind 
of refreshment on every possible occasion, and 
especially on a visit of ceremony such as this. 
So when M. Auguste asked Madame Lafond 
what she would take, she and Germaine chose 
a “ Sir op de Groseilles ,” which is made of the 
juice of gooseberries and sweetened. A few 
spoonfuls of this in a glass of soda-water 
makes a delightful cool drink in hot weather, 
and one of which French children are very 
fond. There are also syrups made in the 
same way from strawberries, raspberries, 
peaches, etc., but this is one of the best 
liked. 

“There is Madeleine making signs to you 
outside the door. Run and see what she 
wants, my little one,” said M. Auguste. “ I 
can guess,” he said, laughingly, as Germaine 
ran to greet the waitress of the hotel, who 


At the Farm of La Chaumiere 17 

always looked so neat and pretty in her white 
country cap, her coloured apron over a black 
dress, and a coloured handkerchief around 
her neck, with neat black slippers on her 
feet. 

“ Let me show you how we are going to 
celebrate the fete-day of M. Auguste,” said 
she, smiling, and, opening a box, she showed 
Germaine the sticks of powder, which they 
would burn when night came, and make the 
beautiful red and green light such as all chil- 
dren and many grown folks like. The first 
of these sticks was to be burnt at the very 
entrance door, that all the village might 
know that it was M. Auguste's birthday. 
Madeleine and the cook and the housemaid 
and the washerwoman and the boy that 
blacked the guests' boots had each given a few 
centimes (or cents) to buy these, as well as 
other things that wriggled along the ground 
and went off with a bang, as a surprise for 


1 8 Our Little French Cousin 


M. Auguste. Also the American and Eng- 
lish visitors at the hotel had bought “ Roman 
candles ” and some “ catharine-wheels,” which 
were to be let off in front of the Belle Etoile ; 
so the hotel would be very gay that night. 

M. Auguste’s name-day had also been cele- 
brated in another way some time before. On 
the fete of St. Auguste it was the custom to 
carry around a big anvil and stop with it in 
front of the house of every one who is named 
Auguste or Augustine. A cartridge was 
placed on the anvil and hit sharply with a 
hammer, when of course it made a frightful 
noise ; and for some unknown reason this was 
supposed to please good St. Auguste as well 
as those who bore his name. Then the per- 
son who had this little attention paid him or 
her would come out and ask every one into 
their house to have a glass of calvados , which 
is a favourite drink in this part of France, 
and is made from apples. 


At the Farm of La Chaumiere 19 

The Belle Etoile, like most of the hotels 
of France, was built with a courtyard in the 
centre, and around this were galleries or ve- 
randas, on which the sleeping-rooms opened. 
Carriages passed through an archway into this 
courtyard, on the one side of which were 
stables, on another the kitchen and servants’ 
quarters, and the entrance to the big cellar 
where were kept the great barrels of cider. 

Most of the courtyard was given up to a 
beautiful garden, set about with shrubs and 
flowers. At little tables under big, gay, striped 
garden-umbrellas, the guests of the Belle 
Etoile ate their meals. In the country, every 
one who can dines in the garden during the 
summer months, which is another pleasant 
custom of this people. 

M. Auguste was very fond of little Ger- 
maine, and often told her of his boyhood days 
in the gay little city of Tours, where the purest 
French is spoken, with its fine old cathedral 


20 Our Little French Cousin 


and the lovely country thereabouts all covered 
with grape-vines ; and how in the bright 
autumn days the vineyards are full of workers 
filling the baskets on their backs with the green 
and purple grapes ; how late in the evening the 
big wagons, full of men, women, and children, 
come rolling home, piled up with grapes, the 
pickers all singing and joyous, with great 
bunches of wild flowers tied on the front of 
each wagon. “ A very happy, gay people, 
my dear,” would remark M. Auguste, “ not 
like these cold, stolid Normans.” But to us 
foreigners all the French people seem as gay 
as these good folk of Touraine, the land of 
vineyards and beautiful white chateaux. 

M. Auguste had also been a great traveller, 
for his father was well-to-do, and he thought 
that his boy should see something of his own 
country — though French people as a rule are 
not great travellers. They are the most home- 
loving people in the world, and their greatest 


At the Farm of La Chaumiere 21 

ambition is to have a little house and a garden 
in which to spend their days. 

So M. Auguste had seen much. He had 
been to the bustling city of Lyons, where the 
finest silks and velvets in the world are made. 
He had journeyed along the beautiful coast of 
France where it borders on the blue Mediter- 
ranean, where palms and oranges and such 
lovely flowers grow, especially the sweet pur- 
ple violets from which the perfumes are made. 
From here also come the candied rose-petals 
and violets, that the confectioners sell you as 
the latest thing in sweetmeats. 

He had visited the great port of Marseilles, 
the most important in France, where are to be 
seen ships from all over the world, and there 
he learned to make their famous dish, the 
bouillabaisse , which is a luscious stew of all 
kinds of fish — for M. Auguste prides himself 
on the special dishes that he cooks for his 
guests, and Germaine is often asked to try 


22 Our Little French Cousin 


them. He had been also to the rich city of 
Bordeaux, where the fine wines come from. 
Oh, M. Auguste is a great traveller, thought 
Germaine, as they sat together in the kitchen 
of the Belle Etoile, while M. Auguste talked 
with Mimi, the white cat, sitting on his shoul- 
der, while Fifine, the black one, was on his 
knee. They were great pets of M. Auguste, 
and as well known and liked as himself by the 
guests at the Belle Etoile. 


CHAPTER II. 


TO ROUEN ON A BARGE 

Germaine and her parents, and her Uncle 
Daboll and his wife, and their little son Jean, 
just one year younger than Germaine, were all 
at the station long before the train was due. 
The two children were fairly prancing with 
glee, while Raton leaped about no less excited. 
They were very fond of Marie, as was every 
one who knew her, for she was a gentle, kind- 
hearted girl, and though several years older 
than Germaine, they were great companions. 
This was her first year away from home, and 
Germaine had missed her sadly. 

“ There she is,” cried Germaine, as the train 
pulled slowly in, and a young girl appeared at 
the window of one of the third-class carriages, 


2 3 


24 Our Little French Cousin 

waving her handkerchief, and throwing them 
kisses. 

Her father lifted her down, and every one 
kissed her twice, an either cheek, and amid 
much laughing and talking they walked toward 
Uncle Daboll’s house, while Raton danced 
in circles about them as if he had gone mad. 

cc Oh, Marie,” cried Germaine and Jean in 
the same breath, “ we have such a lovely sur- 
prise for you ! You have heard, of course, of 
the grand c Norman Fetes/ which are to be 
held at Rouen next week! Well, just think, 
we are all going to see them, that is, you and 
Jean and me and uncle and aunt, and better 
still — how do you think we are going?” 
“ Why, Qn the train, of course,” laughed Marie, 
“and won't we have a good time.” “No,” 
spoke up Jean, quickly, “ we are going a brand- 
new way. What do you say to going on a 
barge on the river ? ” “A barge,” cried Marie, 
“ but I thought no one was allowed to travel 


To Rouen on a Barge 25 

on the barges, except the people who ran them 
and lived on them.” “ That is true,” said 
Germaine, “ but uncle has fixed all that ; you 
know he sends lots of brick to Rouen by 
the barges — one is being loaded up now at 
the quay, and he has arranged that we go on it 
to Rouen and stay on the barge while it is being 
unloaded, and see the fetes. Then we will 
come back by train. Won't it be glorious ? ” 
“ And,” chimed in- Jean, a papa is going to tell 
us all about the history of these fetes after 
dinner.” 

M. Daboll’s horne was a neat little cottage, 
with its upper part of black beams and white 
plaster, and a pretty red-tiled roof, the ground 
floor being of stone. M. Daboll owned a 
large brick-kiln, and was quite well-to-do. 

They all gathered for dinner about a round 
table in an arbour that overlooked the river. 
The arbour was ingeniously formed by training 
the branches of two trees and interlacing them 


26 Our Little French Cousin 


as if they were vines, which gave complete 
shelter from the sun. 

Every one was eager to listen to Marie’s 
account of her school life at the convent. It 
was a very old convent, with beautiful gardens 
surrounding it, built as usual around a court- 
yard, in the centre of which was a statue of 
St. Antoine, who is a favourite patron saint 
of schools, and considered the special guardian 
of children. He also, according to tradition, 
helps one find lost articles, and as we all know 
how school-children are always losing their 
belongings, this may be another reason for 
having the kind St. Antoine as a protector 
of school-children. At six the girls are up, 
and study an hour before the fc little breakfast ” 
of a roll and butter and chocolate or coffee. 
Lessons take up the time until noon, when 
they have their dinner of soup, meat, vegeta- 
ble, and cider, with a gateau , as they call a 
cake, on Sundays. After dinner they are 


To Rouen on a Barge 


27 


taught plain sewing, and when the sewing hour 
is over they can play about the gardens until 
the study hour comes around again. A plain 
supper of bread and cheese, chocolate or milk, 
follows, and by nine o’clock every one is in 
bed. The children dress very simply, — plain 
cotton frocks, which indoors are always com- 
pletely covered with a black apron or tablier. 
On Thursdays they have a half-holiday, and 
in the care of the Sisters go on little excursions 
or walks in the neighbourhood. A pleasant, 
simple life, and, as M. Lafond said, as he 
pinched Marie’s cheek, cc It seems to agree 
with you, my dear.” 

“ Now, papa, you promised to tell us about 
these Norman Fetes,” said Jean, when the 
table had been cleared away, and the little 
coffee-cups brought out. 

“ So I will, Jean, and first you bring me 
that big roll which you will find on the side- 
table in the dining-room.” 


28 Our Little French Cousin 


Jean was back with it directly, and Uncle 
Daboll unrolled a big poster, advertising the 
fetes. It showed a fine, strong man in ancient 
armour, seated on a prancing horse, carrying 
on his arm a shield, emblazoned with two red 
lions, and holding aloft a spear. Below him 
on the river were to be seen three small boats, 
each with one sail, and also arranged so that it 
could be rowed by hand. 

“ This represents Rollo,” went on M. Da- 
boll, as the children clustered around him, 
“the leader of a great race of people whose 
home was in the cold, far-away North. Tall 
people they were, with golden hair, and great 
sailors, who sailed in tiny ships, like those you 
see in the picture, over the bleak, stormy sea 
which lies between their land and France, until 
they came to the river Seine, where it empties 
into the Atlantic Ocean. 

“They rowed up the river and camped 
where the fine city of Rouen now stands, 


To Rouen on a Barge 29 

and from these fair-haired Northmen are de- 
scended the present-day Normans. It has 
been many centuries since all this happened, 
so the good people of Rouen thought this a 
suitable time to celebrate the founding of their 
city, and of the great Norman race, at one 
time the most powerful in France.” 

“And at Rouen we shall also see the spot 
where poor Jeanne d’Arc was burned,” said 
Marie. “ We have just been reading her 
history at the school.” 

“Tell us her story again,” said Jean. 

“ She will on the barge. You will have 
plenty of time then,” said M. Lafond ; “ but 
we must be getting home now. It is quite a 
walk, and our little Marie must be tired after 
her long day.” 

It was about six o’clock in the morning of 
the next day when the gay little party found 
themselves on the barge bound for Rouen. 

“ Now here comes our tow that we must tie 


30 Our Little French Cousin 

up to,” said the bargeman, as a tug with five 
barges in tow came puffing down the river ; 
and taking a long pole with a hook in the end 
of it, he began pushing the barge away from 
the shore until it moved toward the middle of 
the river. Then the tugboat slowed down 
until the long line of barges was just creeping 
along ; one could hardly see that they moved 
at all. Just as the last one passed that which 
carried our party, the man in the stern of it 
threw them a rope which was quickly caught 
and fastened to the forward end, and as it 
grew taut, the barge began to move and 
soon took its place at the tail-end of the long 
procession. 

The children at once began to make them- 
selves at home in their new surroundings. 
“ Did you ever see anything nicer ? ” said Ger- 
maine, as she dragged Marie into the little 
house under the big tiller, where the barge- 
man and his wife lived. 


To Rouen on a Barge 31 

<c Does it not look like a doll’s house ? ” 
said Marie, as they went down the ladder into 
the tiny living room. Everything was as neat 
as could be, and painted white, with lace cur- 
tains at each of the small windows. 

It was wonderful how much could be stowed 
away inside, and ye.t leave plenty of room. 
A sewing-machine stood in one corner ; a bird- 
cage was hanging in the window, and a little 
stove, a table to dine on, and a couple of 
chairs completed the arrangements, save the 
pictures on the walls, the china in a neat little 
cupboard, and the beds which were built like 
shelves, one above the other, to allow all the 
floor space possible. On deck, one side of 
the house was given up to a shelf full of gay 
flowers in pots, and vines were trained up 
against the side of the house. There was 
also on deck a chest to hold the meat and 
vegetables, so as to keep them cool and fresh, 
and a small cask was made into a house for 


32 Our Little French Cousin 


the dog. Every barge has its dog and cat, 
which usually get on together very well, con- 
sidering their crowded quarters. Everything 
about the house end of the barge was painted 
white with green trimmings, and all was very 
clean and neat. 

Jean then came up to tell them that he had 
found out that every barge in the tow belonged 
to a different owner. This he had learned 
from the gaudy colours with which they were 
decorated. “ You will see,” said he, “ that ours 
has a big white triangle with a smaller red tri- 
angle inside of that painted on the bow. The 
one next to us has a broad red band with two 
white circles, and there is another yellow with 
two big blue stars on either side. These are 
the distinguishing marks of the different com- 
panies to which they belong.” 

They were now leaving behind them the 
great high cliffs of white chalk that shine like 
snow, through which the river runs almost all 


To Rouen on a Barge 


33 


the way from Mantes to Rouen. Just here 
it wound through rich green meadows. Along 
the water’s edge were clumps of willow-trees, 
whose long, pliable twigs are used by the 
country people to weave baskets. They trim 
off the branches, but leave the tree standing 
for more branches to grow, and so they never 
use up their basket material. The French 
take very good care of their trees, and when 
they cut one down, always plant another in its 
place. 

Often the barge passed other long tows, 
whose barge-people would shout greetings 
across to them. For most bargees are ac- 
quainted, at least by sight, and the dogs would 
bark “ How do you do’s ” as well. Great 
coal barges from Belgium passed, having come 
laden many hundreds of miles across France; 
and others with hogsheads of wine from the 
south, which have been brought by sea to 
Rouen. 


34 Our Little French Cousin 


A merry dinner was served on a table on 
deck under an awning. The wife of the barge- 
man had cooked a good meal on the little 
stove which stood on one of the hatches right 
out in the open. They had a favourite coun- 
try soup first, beef and cabbage soup with a 
crust of bread in it. (French soups are usually 
called potage , though the real country soup is 
often known by the name we call it ourselves 
— soupe.) Then there was a crisp green salad, 
big jugs of Normandy cider, which is a beau- 
tiful golden colour, blanquette de veau , which 
is veal with a nice white egg sauce over it. 
Lapin garnne followed, which is nothing more 
than stewed rabbit, and a dish of which all 
French people are very fond, and have nearly 
every day when it is in season. Fresh Nor- 
mandy cream cheese and cherries and little 
cakes finished the meal, with the usual coffee 
and calvados for the older people. 

“We will soon see Pont de F Arche,” said 


35 


To Rouen on a Barge 

the bargeman, and they had barely finished 
dinner when the picturesque church of the 
town was seen rising above the trees. 

“ It has no spire nor towers ; it looks like 
half of a church,” said Jean. 

“ Which is true, but it is quite a famous 
church, nevertheless,” said his father. “ It is 
probably the only church in the world which 
is dedicated to c Art and to the Artists.’ ” 

“ Our Lady of the Arts ” it is called. 
Artists are beginning to visit it more from 
year to year, and it is a veritable place of 
pilgrimage now. 

The barge soon passed under the old bridge 
at Pont de l’Arche, and left behind the church, 
standing high above the town, a landmark for 
miles along the river. 

Marie had promised to tell the children the 
story of Jeanne d’Arc, as they wanted to have 
it fresh in their minds when they visited 
Rouen, for every part of this old city is full 


36 Our Little French Cousin 

of memories of this wonderful little peasant 
girl who saved her country, and, by so doing, 
made possible the existence of the great French 
nation of to-day. 

Sitting under the awning, as the barge glided 
along, Marie told the story of the little peas- 
ant girl, only sixteen years old, who lived in 
the far-away village of Domremy. Believing 
that Heaven had chosen her to save her coun- 
try from the hands of the English, she made 
her way to the court of Charles VII., then 
King of France. It was at Chinon in the 
valley of the Loire — that other great river of 
France — that she finally reached her king, 
and in one of the great castles, whose ruins 
still crown the heights above the city, elo- 
quently pleaded her cause. Visitors there to- 
day can see the room with its great fireplace 
in which this famous meeting took place. 

Her plea convinced the king, and she was 
made commander-in-chief of the army, which 


To Rouen on a Barge 37 

she led on to Orleans, raised the siege of that 
city, and drove the English off. There is to- 
day no city in France as proud of the “ Maid ” 
as is Orleans ; indeed she is known as the 
c< Maid of Orleans.” The house she is sup- 
posed to have stayed in is now preserved as a 
museum, and every May, on the anniversary 
of the day on which the siege was raised, a 
great celebration takes place in front of the 
cathedral, and a procession of priests and peo- 
ple carrying banners marches around the town 
chanting hymns in her praise. Jeanne d’Arc 
did break the power of the English in France, 
true to her promise, and finally brought King 
Charles to the magnificent cathedral at Reims, 
where the French kings were always crowned, 
and herself, amid great rejoicing, placed the 
crown upon his head. But the king forgot 
what the “ Maid ” had done for him and for 
his country, apparently, and finally she was 
betrayed into the hands of her enemies, who 


38 Our Little French Cousin 

took her to Rouen, and, after a mock trial, 
poor Jeanne was sentenced to death, and burnt 
in the market-place at Rouen. 

In later years the French nation recognized 
the great good she had done, and the memory 
of the little peasant girl of Domremy is loved 
and venerated throughout the land. There is 
scarcely a city in France that has not honoured 
her in some way, either by erecting a statue to 
her, or naming a 'place or street in her honour. 

The children were so much interested in the 
wonderful story of Jeanne d’Arc that they had 
not realized how time was flying. They were 
drawing near Rouen, for over the flat fields of 
the river valley on the left rose the tall chim- 
neys of the cotton factories at Oissel and 
Elbeuf. 

There is much cotton cloth made in the 
vicinity of Rouen, and shipped all over France. 
On the quays there may be seen the bales of 
cotton that is grown on the plantations in the 


To Rouen on a Barge 39 

Southern States of America, and shipped from 
New Orleans direct to Rouen. 

Just here the bargeman pointed out to them 
the tiny church of St. Adrien. The “ Rock 
Church,” as it is known, is cut out of the 
chalk cliff, hanging high above the river. It 
looks like a bird's house perched up so high, 
with its four small windows and tiny bell- 
tower. 

Presently Uncle Daboll said, cc Look way 
down the river, children, and tell me what you 
see.” 

“ Oh,” cried Jean, <f I see three church 
spires.” 

“ More than that,” said Germaine. <c I can 
count seven.” 

“ Both of you are right,” said Uncle Daboll. 
cc The three spires are those of three of the 
most beautiful churches in France. That tall, 
needle-like one belongs to the Cathedral of 


Notre Dame.” 


40 Our Little French Cousin 

“ There is one which looks as if it has a 
crown on the top,” said Germaine. 

“ It does look like a crown made of stone, 
and so it has been called the c Crown of Nor- 
mandy/ It is on the central tower of the 
church of St. Ouen.” 

The city began to unfold before them, with 
its long rows of quays lined with shops, hotels, 
and cafes on the one side, and ships from all 
parts of the world on the other. 

Their barge soon deftly glided into what 
seemed a perfect tangle of barges of all kinds, 
and came to anchor next to a big Belgian coal- 
carrier, whose occupants, like themselves, were 
evidently bent on getting as much enjoyment 
out of their visit to Rouen as possible. 



JJ 


“ THE CITY BEGAN TO UNFOLD BEFORE THEM 










CHAPTER III. 


THE FETES AT ROUEN 

It was growing dark when our little party 
scrambled over the decks of several barges, 
and finally found themselves walking up the 
quay. 

The lights were beginning to twinkle in all 
directions, and in a few minutes the river and 
city were ablaze. It seemed like fairyland to 
the children. The bridges were outlined with 
golden globes and festoons of tiny lamps of 
red, white, and blue. Wreaths of lights, in 
the shape of flowers of all colours, made innu- 
merable arches of light across the streets. 
Everywhere were flags grouped about shields 
on which were the letters R. F., which stand 
for the words “ Republic of France.” 


41 


42 Our Little French Cousin 

Walking in any direction was not easy. A 
mass of people swaying hither and thither 
blocked streets, bridges, and quays. Our 
little Les Andelys party did not attempt to 
stem the torrent. “ We will just drift along,” 
said Uncle Daboll, “ and see what we can, and 
you children hold each other’s hands and keep 
closely to us.” 

It was a motley and most good-natured 
crowd. Ladies in Parisian gowns mingled 
with country women in their fanciful white 
caps, kerchiefs, and short skirts. There were 
Breton fisherfolk and dark-skinned people 
from the far south ; sailors and soldiers in 
their gay red and blue uniforms, and every 
now and then one would hear a clear English 
voice. 

Vendors of toys for the little ones, and 
souvenirs for everybody, stood on every corner 
and did a flourishing trade, and high above the 
heads of every one floated masses of the small 


The Fetes at Rouen 


43 


red, white, and blue balloons, held captive on a 
long string, without which no French fete is 
complete. On the sidewalk in front of the 
cafes, people were sitting at small tables sipping 
their coffee and the mimberless sweet drinks 
of which the French are so fond, while at each 
cafe a band was playing for the amusement of 
its guests, but was also enjoyed by the passing 
throngs. It took the combined efforts of 
many natty policemen — “gendarmes ,” they are 
called — to keep an open pathway through the 
crowdc 

A gendarme looks more like a soldier than a 
policeman, in his dark blue uniform and soldier- 
cap, a short sword by his side, and a cape over 
his shoulders, all of which gives him quite a 
military air. 

Presently, at a corner, they were stopped by 
an even denser throng who were watching a 
gaily dressed crowd of people entering a bril- 
liantly decorated and illuminated building. 


44 Our Little French Cousin 

“ What is this ? ” asked Uncle Daboll of a 
man near him. 

“ It is the grand costume ball at the theatre, 
where every one is expected to dress in old 
Norman costume,” was the answer. 

“ Oh,” said Germaine, “ that is why the 
ladies are wearing those funny tall head-dresses ; 
look, Marie, there is one quite near us.” 

The costume was both pretty and odd. The 
lady had on a white head-dress made of em- 
broidered muslin, very like a sunbonnet in 
shape, with a high crown, around which was 
tied a big bow of ribbon. A bright-coloured 
kerchief was about her neck, and she wore a 
square-necked cloth bodice neatly laced in 
front, with sleeves to the elbow ; underneath 
this was a white chemisette , as it is called. 
Around the neck and sleeves of the bodice 
were bands of velvet. A very short skirt, 
gathered as full as possible about the waist, a 
dainty little apron of coloured silk with lace 


The Fetes at Rouen 45 

insertion, wooden sabots , prettily carved, and 
lace mitts on her hands, completed her unusual 
costume. 

The gentleman with her was also in Nor- 
man dress. He had big baggy trousers, a high 
velvet waistcoat embroidered in bright colours, 
a short round jacket with gold buttons, a high 
white collar with a big red silk handkerchief 
tied in a bow around the neck, enormous sabots , 
and all topped off with a high silk hat, with a 
straight brim. 

While the children were busy looking at the 
details of the costumes, a carriage halted so 
near Germaine that she could have put out her 
hand and touched its occupant, who was a 
young girl about her own age. Germaine was 
at once attracted to her. She had a sweet 
pretty face, bright rosy cheeks, and soft blue 
eyes ; her waving, brown hair fell loosely about 
her shoulders, and across her white dress was 
draped a small silk flag which Germaine recog- 


46 Our Little French Cousin 

nized as the British flag, known as the “ Union 
Jack .” She wore a wreath of red roses and 
carried in her hand a bunch of the same flowers 
in which were stuck two small silk flags — one 
French and the other British. Beside her sat 
a portly gentleman in a gorgeous robe of black 
and red trimmed with fur, while around his 
neck was a massive golden chain. 

As Germaine was watching her, the little 
girl leaned eagerly out of the carriage window, 
and in so doing dropped her bouquet at Ger- 
maine's feet. “ Oh, papa, I have lost my 
flowers,” she cried. Meanwhile Germaine 
quickly picked them up, and handed them 
back to her ; and not a moment too soon, for 
the carriage was moving on again and the bou- 
quet would have been crushed under its wheels. 

“ Thank you so much,” cried the little girl, 
looking back and waving her hand. Germaine 
did not understand the words, but knew she 
had been thanked in English. 


The Fetes at Rouen 47 

0 

Germaine had been so taken up with this 
little incident that she had not noticed that the 
crowd had separated her from her companions. 
Her heart gave a bound, and with a startled 
cry she realized that only strange faces were 
about her, and she stood motionless with 
fright. Her terror was fortunately short-lived, 
for through the crowd she saw Uncle Daboll 
making his way toward her, and rushing up to 
him thankfully clasped his hand, which he 
made her promise not to loose again until they 
were safe back on the barge. 

It was not until later, when they were sitting 
on the deck of the barge watching the fire- 
works on the heights around the city leave 
fiery streaks and showers of shining stars on 
the blackness of the summer sky, that Ger- 
maine had the opportunity of telling the family 
of her adventure with the “ little girl of the 
roses,” as she called her. 

Aunt Daboll thought that probably she 


48 Our Little French Cousin 

belonged to one of the parties of English visi- 
tors who had come to Rouen to take part in 
the Fetes. 

Very early the following morning they 
finished their coffee and rolls and began their 
round of sightseeing, all of which had to be 
crowded into the morning, as the afternoon was 
to be given over to the Water Tournament, 
to which the children were looking forward 
with great excitement. 

Jean, especially, had been impressed with 
the posters which showed in brilliant colours 
men in unfamiliar dress, tumbling into the 
water and being fished out again, with, appar- 
ently, great unconcern as to the consequences. 

“ Well, what shall we see first ? ” asked 
Uncle Daboll. 

“ Oh, the big clock,” said Jean, “ and 
then let’s climb the iron spire of the cathe- 
dral.” 

Germaine wanted to see where poor Jeanne 


The Fetes at Rouen 49 

cTArc had been put to death ; the others were 
ready for anything. 

“ Everywhere one sees the name of Jeanne 
d’Arc,” said Marie. “ This street is named 
after her, and last night we were in the 
Boulevard Jeanne d’Arc.” 

u And just at the top of this same street,” 
said Uncle Daboll, cc we shall see the Tower 
of Jeanne d’Arc, where the poor girl was im- 
prisoned during her mock trial in the great 
castle, of which only this one tower is left 
standing.” 

They soon turned into a narrow street, and 
there was the great clock, built in a tower, 
under which runs the roadway itself. 

Another turning brought them to the Palais 
de Justice, with its big dormer windows elabo- 
rately carved in stone. 

A few steps more, and they were in the old 
market-place, and little Germaine with bated 
breath looked at the stone let into the pave- 


50 Our Little French Cousin 


ment at her feet, which marks the spot where 
poor Jeanne bravely met her terrible death by 
fire. All about the place the market people 
were peddling their wares, bargaining and call- 
ing out the merits of their various vegetables 
and fruits and poultry, the scene not unlike 
what it may have been in those olden days 
when the Normans ruled. 

Our party could not, however, linger very 
long over memories of the cc Maid,” for Uncle 
Daboll hurried them away to see the great 
church of St. Ouen, with such large windows 
that it seems to have walls of glass, and its 
curious Portal of the Marmosets, all over 
which are carved little animals which look like 
ferrets. They passed the little church of St. 
Maclou, set like a gem in a tangle of streets 
that were little more than alleys. As Jean 
said, the tall, old houses seemed to be leaning 
over toward one another as if they were trying 
to knock their heads together. 


The Fetes at Rouen 51 

At one street corner there had been erected 
a triumphal arch which was surmounted by a 
facsimile of the statue of William the Con- 
queror, the original of which stands in the 
little Norman town of Falaise, where he was 
born. 

All French children know the history of 
this great Norman, who was an unknown boy 
in an obscure little village, but who in time 
sailed across what is now known as the English 
Channel, conquered England, and made him- 
self King of England as well as Duke of 
Normandy. 

When they came to the cathedral, our party 
were glad to enter and rest awhile within the 
cool, lofty aisles and say a short prayer. 

Marie remembered her favourite St. Antoine 
and dropped two sous in the box at the foot 
of his statue, for the poor. 

While Uncle Daboll and Jean climbed up 
the iron spire, the rest of the party were taken 


52 Our Little French Cousin 

by the “ suisse ” to see the chapels with their 
tombs and tapestries. 

The suisse is an imposing person in gorgeous 
dress of black velvet and gold lace, a big three- 
cornered hat covered with gold braid, white 
silk stockings, shoes with big buckles, and he 
carries a tall gold-headed stock. 

It is his duty to guard the church and, for a 
small fee, to show visitors the chapels and 
other parts of the church not generally open. 

Marie and Germaine felt quite in awe of 
him at first. They had never seen anything 
so magnificent before, but seeing their great 
interest in all that he pointed out to them, he 
unbent, and when he showed Germaine the 
spot where was buried the heart of King 
Richard, and she told him that she lived near 
the great castle the king had built, at Les 
Andelys, he smiled in a most friendly way, and 
patted her on the head. 

It was quite a change when, after Uncle 


The Fetes at Rouen 


53 


Daboll and Jean joined them, they went out 
from the dark church into the square blazing 
with sunlight, and full of booths with all sorts 
of things to sell, toys, souvenirs, and picture 
post-cards galore. 

Jean was full of his experiences in the 
tower : how they went up a little winding 
stairway to the very top, and they could see 
for miles around the city, and how the peo- 
ple looked like tiny black dots far below ; and 
how, when coming down, he got a bit dizzy, 
and his father made him shut his eyes and sit 
still for a minute or two ; but that was doing 
better than a grown man who was just behind 
them, and who had to go back just after 
they had started. 

When Jean had finished telling his expe- 
riences, everybody found out that they were 
very hungry. Uncle Daboll laughed, and 
said he had never known them to be so much 
of one mind before. 


54 Our Little French Cousin 


“Well, follow me, little ones, and we shall 
find something,” he said, and led the way 
down the street, gay with flags, wreaths, and 
flowers. 

<c Just one moment, uncle,” cried Marie, “ let 
us stop and buy some post-cards to send home.” 

“ It will be better,” said Uncle Daboll, “to 
get them after dinner, and while we are having 
our coffee at a cafe we can write them and send 
them off. If we stop now, we shall be late 
for dinner, for it is past noon.” 

“ Here is our place for dinner,” he con- 
tinued, as they entered a small square sur- 
rounded by old-time houses near the river. 
On one side was a modest little hotel called 
the “ Three Merchants.” Going up an out- 
side stairway, they entered a small room 
with a low ceiling and a stone floor, with a 
long table down the centre. 

It was a typical place for the farmers to 
come for their dinners when they brought 


The Fetes at Rouen 


55 


their produce into the markets. Some of 
these farmers were now sitting at the table 
with blue or black blouses over their broad- 
cloth suits, with their wives in black dresses 
and white caps, all talking and gesticulating 
away over their dinner. 

There were two pleasant-faced cures in their 
long, tight black gowns closely buttoned up the 
front, the brims of their flat black hats caught 
up on either side with a cord, who had evi- 
dently come in from some country parish to 
see the fetes. There was also a solitary 
bicyclist whose costume betrayed the fact that 
he was a Frenchman, for no other bicyclists in 
the world get themselves up in so juvenile a 
manner as do the French. A loose black 
alpaca coat, a broad waistband in which was 
sewed his purse, baggy knickerbockers of gray 
plaid, and socks with low shoes, leaving the 
leg bare to the knee, completed his marvellous 


costume. 


56 Our Little French Cousin 


You would think this a little boy’s dress in 
America, would you not ? 

These were the guests to whom our party 
nodded, which is a polite and universal French 
custom when entering and leaving a room 
where others are, even though they may be 
unknown to you. 

After a bountiful middle-class dinner, our 
party passed out into the crowded streets 
again, when the energetic Jean exclaimed: 
“ Now for our post-cards ! ” 

“Now for a place to rest a little while,” 
cried uncle and aunt in the same breath. 

“ Here is a pleasant, cool-looking little cafe 
across the street; the one with the green 
shrubs in boxes before it. We will have 
our coffee there while you select your post- 
cards. You will find them in that corner 
shop.” 

In a few minutes the children were back 
with the cards. Jean had selected a view of 


The Fetes at Rouen 57 

the cathedral, because he wanted to show his 
uncle and aunt the great spire up which he 
had climbed ; Marie sent several showing the 
decorations in the streets to various of her 
school friends, and Germaine did not forget 
her friend, M. Auguste, after sending one each 
to her father and mother. 

Before two o'clock everybody was hurrying 
toward the river to see the water sports. 

“ Oh, aunty," cried Germaine, pulling her 
aunt by the sleeve, “ look, there is my ‘ little 
girl of the roses,' see, walking this way with 
those ladies and gentlemen ! " 

Germaine was quite trembling with excite- 
ment as she saw the little girl recognized her, 
and came quickly toward them. 

“ Oh, I am so glad to see you," she cried. 
“ I have wanted to see you again to thank 
you. Oh, but isn't it stupid of me ? " she went 
on, with a sign of vexation. “ Of course you 
don't know English, and I can't speak French, 


58 Our Little French Cousin 


except to say merci and bon jour and bon soir> 
so how can we talk to each other ? ” Then 
she stopped and laughed, and Germaine 
laughed, too, and the two little girls stood 
smiling at one another, when the portly gen- 
tleman, whom Germaine had seen in the car- 
riage, hurried up. “ Ethel, my dear, why did 
you run off like this ? ” 

“ Oh, papa, this is the little girl who handed 
me back my roses, when they fell from the 
carriage last night. You know my special 
programme was tied with the flowers, and I 
would not have lost it for anything.” 

Just then some French people came up who 
also spoke English, and the little girl explained 
the situation. Germaine then learned that 
Ethel was the daughter of the mayor of the 
English town of Hastings, and he had been 
invited to represent England at the fetes, for 
it was at Hastings that William the Con- 
queror had landed, and near there that the 


The Fetes at Rouen 59 

great battle of Hastings was fought, which 
gave England to the Normans. 

That was so very long ago that everybody 
in England is now very proud of it, and the 
English cousins from Hastings were taking 
as much interest in the fetes as the French 
themselves. 

Germaine blushed while the gentleman was 
telling her all this, and Ethel took a little 
English flag that she had pinned on her dress 
and gave it to Germaine. When Ethel’s 
papa heard where Germaine lived, he said he 
had been to Les Andelys, he had stayed at 
the Belle Etoile, and knew M. Auguste, and 
perhaps next year he would come there again 
and bring Ethel and her mother, and then 
they should all meet again. 

After the French gentleman kindly made 
all this known to Germaine, the little girls 
shook hands and parted, for the Tournament 
had begun. 


6o Our Little French Cousin 


Two queer-looking craft, much like gon- 
dolas, took up their positions, one at either 
end of the course. The crew of one had a 
white costume with red sashes and red caps — 
the other was in similar dress, except that their 
caps and sashes were blue. These respective 
crews were known as the “ Blues ” and the 
“ Reds.” 

On a raised platform at the end of his boat 
stood a “ Red,” with a long lance at rest ; 
opposite was a “ Blue ” in the same position. 
At a given signal, the boats came toward one 
another, and one lance-man attempted to push 
the other off into the water. 

Great was the excitement among their parti- 
sans on the banks, and cries of encouragement 
came from friends on either side. Jean had 
picked out the cc Blue ” as his choice, while 
Marie and Germaine hoped the “ Red ” would 
win. By this time the children were stand- 
ing on their chairs, Jean waving his cap with 


The Fetes at Rouen 


61 


great enthusiasm. Suddenly “ Red ” gave a 
stronger push, and down went poor “ Blue,” 
head foremost in the water. However, he did 
not seem to mind it, as he sat dripping in the 
rescue boat. Jean felt rather badly over the 
fall of his hero, but another man took his 
place, and this time Jean's man won, to his 
intense delight. So the fun went on until late 
in the afternoon. Another evening’s walk 
through the illuminated city, and the children 
were quite ready for their beds on the barge, 
— for the men of the party slept on deck 
while the rest had the little house to them- 
selves. 


CHAPTER IV. 

GOING HOME BY TRAIN 

It was with real regret that our little friends 
parted from the good barge people and their 
floating home, as well as from the beautiful 
city of Rouen, where they had seen so much, 
and had such a good time. 

Germaine, who had not been before in a big 
railway station, was somewhat bewildered at 
the confusion about her, while Jean, who had 
been once to Mantes, was proud to be able to 
explain things to her. The tall man in a blue 
uniform was the station-master, and one could 
always tell him from the other blue-uniformed 
officials, because he wore a white cap. It was 
his duty to send off the trains, which he does 


62 


Going Home by Train 63 

by blowing a small whistle, after which some 
one rings a hand-bell that sounds like a dinner- 
bell, and off goes the train. 

The men who were pushing luggage around 
on small hand-trucks were the porters, in blue 
blouses like any French working man, except 
they were belted in at the waist by a broad 
band of red and black stripes. 

Presently the station-master whistled off 
their train. “ Keep a sharp lookout,” said 
Uncle Daboll, “and, as soon as we leave this 
tunnel we are now going through, look out on 
the right side and you will have a fine view of 
the city.” 

Sure enough, in a few minutes they were on 
the bridge, crossing the river, and before them 
stretched out a panorama of Rouen, with a 
jumble of factory chimneys and church spires, 
and rising above all the grand three-towered 
cathedral. 

Perhaps American children might like to 


64 Our Little French Cousin 


know what French trains are like ; they are so 
different from theirs in every way. To begin 
with, there are first, second and third class cars, 
— carriages, they are called, — and each carriage 
is divided into compartments, each compart- 
ment holding six persons in the first class, 
three on each side, and eight persons in the 
second, and in the third class, five on a side — 
ten in all. There is a door and two small 
windows in each end of a compartment. 

The first and second classes have cushioned 
seats, but there are only wooden benches in the 
third. In many of the third class the divisions 
between the compartments are not carried up 
to the roof, and one can look over and see who 
his neighbours may be. The people who 
travel third class on French railways are a very 
sociable lot, and every one soon gets to talking. 
A French third class carriage under these con- 
ditions is the liveliest place you were ever in, 
especially when the train stops at a town on 


Going Home by Train 65 

market-day and many people are about, as they 
were on this occasion. 

Well! Such a hubbub, and such a time as 
they had getting all their various baskets and 
belongings in with them. 

The big ruddy-faced women pulled them- 
selves in with great difficulty, for these trains 
are high from the ground and hard to get into, 
especially when one has huge baskets on one's 
arm, and innumerable boxes and bundles are 
being pushed in after one by friends. 

The men come with farming tools, bags of 
potatoes, and their big sabots , all taking up a 
lot of room. 

One tall stout woman, with a basket in 
either hand, got stuck in the doorway until 
Uncle Daboll gave her a helping hand and her 
friends pushed her from the outside. She 
finally plumped down on a seat quite out of 
breath, when from under the cover of one 
basket two ducks' heads appeared with a loud 


66 Our Little French Cousin 


“ quack, quack, quack.” “ Ah, my beauties, 
get back,” and she tapped them playfully and 
shut the lid down, but out popped their heads 
again with another series of “ quacks,” just like 
a double jack-in-the-box. How the children 
laughed, and that made them all friends at 
once. 

Germaine offered to hold one of her bas- 
kets, for there was not a bit of room in the 
overhead racks, or anywhere else. When she 
took it on her knee, she thought she saw a 
gleam of bright eyes through the cracks, and 
sure enough it was full of little white rabbits. 
The old woman, seeing her interest, let her 
stroke their sensitive little ears, while she told 
how she had bought them at a bon marche , a 
good bargain, and was taking them home to 
her grandchild, just Germaine’s age. 

Next to her were two women who were 
evidently carrying on some dispute that had 
begun early in the day, and each was bent on 


Going Home by Train 67 


having the last word. So their talk went on, 
an endless stream, while the fat woman sat 
by and laughed at them both. Perhaps no 
wonder one of them was cross. She looked 
every little while at a big basket of eggs she 
carried, some of which were broken, and with 
small wonder, it would seem to inexperienced 
eyes, for they were packed in the basket with- 
out anything between them. When she found 
one badly broken, she swallowed it, as much 
as to say, “ That is safe anyway,” and then she 
would talk faster than ever. 

Uncle Daboll talked to the man next him 
about market prices, and the cider crop, and 
what a fine fruit year it was. One had only to 
look out at the orchards they were passing to 
see the truth of this, for the apple-trees were 
so full of fruit that branches had to be propped 
up with poles to keep them from breaking 
down. 

In the next compartment a party of four 


68 Our Little French Cousin 


were playing dominoes, one of the women who 
was with them having spread out her apron 
for a table. 

Another party was evidently making up for 
a meal they had lost, while doing business. 
The mother took from a basket a part of a 
big loaf, from which she cut slices and distrib- 
uted them, with a bit of cheese, to her party, 
at the same time passing around a jug of cider. 

There was an exciting time when one of the 
chickens escaped from a market-basket and 
had to be chased all over the carriage. Such 
a clattering of tongues, flapping of wings, and 
distressful clucks from the poor fowl, which 
was at last caught just as she was about to fly 
out of a window, were never heard before. 

The chattering was increased by elaborate 
good-byes, as one by one the passengers 
dropped off at the small stations. No one 
grumbled at having to help sort out the lug- 
gage each time, but cheerfully and politely 


Going Home by Train 69 

helped disentangle the belongings of the de- 
parting ones, and carefully helped to lift the 
baskets on to the platform, amid profuse 
thanks, where more friends and relations met 
them, and there was as much kissing on both 
cheeks as if they had been on a long journey 
instead of merely to market. 

At one of the stops Germaine noticed a 
woman, holding a horn and a small red flag, 
standing by the sliding gates, where the road 
crossed the railway. She had seen these 
women before along the line, and her uncle 
explained that the railway is fenced in on 
either side by hedges or wire fencing, and 
wherever a road or street crossed, there are 
gates, which must be kept closed while trains 
are passing. Not only must the gatekeeper, 
who is generally a woman, have the gates tight 
shut, but she must also stand beside them like 
a soldier at his post, with her brass horn in 
one hand and a red flag, rolled up, in the 


70 Our Little French Cousin 

other, showing that she is prepared for any 
emergency. If she were not there, the engi- 
neer of the passing train would report it to 
headquarters, and she would doubtless be dis- 
missed. The gatekeeper lives in a neat cottage 
adjoining, and some minutes before each train 
is due she takes the horn and flag from where 
they hang on the wall, and is at her post. 

At the station were M. and Madame Lafond 
to welcome them home, and you can imagine 
how everybody talked at once, and how much 
tjhere was to tell. The fete at Rouen was the 
topic of conversation until its glories paled 
before Petit Andelys’ own special fete, which 
was held some weeks after, and which our little 
friends, with true French patriotism, thought 
the finest in the world, not excepting the more 
elaborate affair at Rouen. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE MARKET AT GRAND ANDELYS 

There was always much noise and activity 
in the farmyard of La Chaumiere on Mondays, 
for that was market-day at Grand Andelys, — 
the important event in a country neighbour- 
hood in France. 

For miles about, from the farms and small 
villages, every one meets in the market-place 
in the centre of the old town ; not only to buy 
and sell, but to talk and be sociable, to hear 
news and tell it. 

The French folk are very industrious, and 
they do not take much time for idle gossip 
unless there is some profit connected with it ; 
but on market-day they combine business with 


7 1 


72 Our Little French Cousin 


pleasure, and make good bargains and hear all 
the happenings of the countryside at the same 
time. 

“ Come, Germaine,” called out Marie, after 
dinner on this particular Monday, “ let us see 
them put the little calves in the cart. Papa is 
going to take four of them to market.” 

“ I know it, but I felt so sorry I did not 
want to see them go,” said Germaine, for she 
was very tender-hearted. Rather reluctantly 
she followed Marie into the farmyard. Marie 
was also very fond of the farm animals, but, 
having been away at school, had naturally not 
made such pets of them as had Germaine, who 
petted everything, from the big plough-horses 
to the tiny chickens just out of the shell. 
They were to her like friends, and it was really 
a grief to her when any of them were taken 
away to the market. But she tried to conquer 
the feeling, for it was part of her papa's busi- 
ness to sell cattle in the market, and he did so 


The Market at Grand Andelys 73 

to provide for his two little daughters. All 
French parents, of whatever position, will stint 
and save in order to accumulate a “ dot,” as it 
is called, for their children, and will make any 
reasonable sacrifice to start them well in life. 

The four little calves had been tied in the 
cart with many bleatings, and much protesting 
on the part of their mothers. “ Papa is going 
to take them to market, and mamma is to 
drive you and me,” said Marie. 

Madame Lafond and the two girls climbed 
into the cart hung high above its two great 
wheels. All three sat together on the one seat, 
which was quite wide. These country carts 
are almost square and also rather pretty. They 
are built of small panels of wood arranged in 
more or less ornamental patterns, and are 
usually painted in bright colours, and have, 
also, a big hood which can be put up as a 
protection from the rain. 

The back of the cart was filled with baskets 


74 Our Little French Cousin 

of eggs, from a specially famous variety of 
fowl, for which the farm was noted. 

The road to Les Andelys was crowded with 
their neighbours and friends bound in the same 
direction, and all in the same style of high 
carts, drawn by a single horse. 

They drove beside the river that flows 
through the two villages, along which the 
washerwomen gathered when they washed their 
clothes. They knelt by a long plank and 
gossiped as they beat out the dirt with a paddle, 
rinsing the clothes afterward in the running 
water of the stream itself. 

At the town they drove into the courtyard 
of the hotel of the <c Bon Laboureur,” where 
there were dozens of country carts like their 
own, from which the horses had already been 
taken. They left the stableman to take charge 
of theirs, and walked across to the market- 
square. 

Booths, with awnings, held everything that 



THE MARKET - SQUARE 



. 










































































































































V 



























The Market at Grand Andelys 75 


could be imagined, from old cast-off pieces of 
iron, locks, keys and the like, to the newest 
kinds of clothing ; for everything under the 
sun is sold at these markets, and it is here 
that the people do most of their shopping 
rather than in the shops. Laces, crockery, 
imitation jewelry and furniture, and most things 
useful to man or beast are sold here. 

Big umbrellas were stuck up for protection 
against sun and rain. Some of them were of 
brilliant colours, reds, blues, and greens, some 
were faded to neutral tints by the weathers 
of many market-days — looking like a field of 
big mushrooms. 

On one side of the square was the vegetable 
and fruit market, where the women in their 
neat cotton dresses and white caps sat under 
their umbrellas, with heaped up baskets of 
peas, beans, cauliflower, melons, and crisp green 
stuff for salads around them. These vegetable 
and fruit sellers are known as the “ Merchants 


76 Our Little French Cousin 


of the four seasons,” because they sell, at 
various times, the products of the four seasons 
of the year. 

Near by were the geese, ducks, and chickens 
packed in big basket-crates, piled one on top of 
the other, and all clucking and restless. Quan- 
tities of little rabbits were also there, and when 
a buyer wished to know if the rabbit were in 
prime condition, he would lift it up by the 
back of its neck just as one does a kitten, and 
feel its backbone. One does not know 
whether the poor rabbits like it or not, but 
they look very frightened, and seem glad when 
it is over. 

Madame Lafond made her way toward 
the egg-market, where the eggs are displayed 
piled up in great baskets, stopping to speak 
to a friend or an acquaintance by the way. 
She was soon in her accustomed place, and 
had opened up her eggs for her customers, for 
eggs from La Chaumiere never went begging. 


The Market at Grand Andelys 77 


The two little children of the wagon-maker 
joined Marie and Germaine, and the four 
amused themselves looking at the booths, and 
planning what they would buy if they had the 
money, or amused themselves watching the 
crowd that quite filled the big market-place. 
“ There are the English,” some one said, and, 
turning, Germaine saw her friend Mr. Carter, 
and his wife, the Americans who were spend- 
ing the summer at the Belle Etoile, standing 
at one of the booths, buying a baton Normandy 
a rough stick of native wood, with a head of 
plaited leather, and a leather loop to hold it 
on the arm, for they are used by the peasants 
in driving cattle, and they frequently want to 
have their hands otherwise quite free. cc This 
will make me a good walking-stick,” said Mr. 
Carter, coming up to the little girls and shak- 
ing hands with them. “ This is your sister 
back from school, eh? Well, when are you 
two going to take that ride with me ? ” 


78 Our Little French Cousin 


It had been a promise of long standing that 
when Marie was at home, they were to go 
for a day's trip in Mr. Carter's big automobile. 
“Well, I must fix on a day, and let M. Auguste 
send word to your mamma so that you and 
Marie can come to the Belle Etoile, and we 
can start from there." 

“ Won't it be lovely?" said Marie; “we 
shall feel as fine as M. Lecoq, the rich farmer 
who comes to market in his great auto, wear- 
ing his fur coat over his blouse, with his sabots 
on just as if he was in the farm wagon, riding 
behind his four white oxen." 

All French working men wear the blouse. 
It is almost like a uniform, and by the colour 
of his blouse one can generally guess a man's 
trade. Painters, masons, grocers, and bakers 
wear the white blouse ; mechanics and the 
better class of farmers seem to prefer black, 
and the ordinary peasants and labourers wear 
blue. 


The Market at Grand Andelys 79 

The blouse is made like a big full shirt, and 
reaches nearly to the knees. You will see 
men well dressed in black broadcloth, white 
shirts and neat ties, and over all the blouse. 
It is really worn now to protect the clothes, 
but is a survival of the olden times when all 
trades wore a livery. 

At the market at Grand Andelys one could 
but notice the neatly dressed hair of the women 
folk. 

All Frenchwomen, of whatsoever class, al- 
ways dress their hair neatly and prettily : and 
as the young girls seldom wear a hat or a 
bonnet, it shows off to so much better advan- 
tage. This is all very well in summer, but one 
wonders that they do not take cold in winter. 
The women wear felt slippers, and thrust their 
feet into their sabots , when they go out, which 
are not so clumsy as those of the men, drop- 
ping them at the door when they come into 
the house. You will always see several pairs 


80 Our Little French Cousin 

of sabots around the entrance to the home of 
a French working man. 

The children by this time had got to where 
the calves stood in their little fenced-in enclo- 
sure. They were not put in the market by 
the church with the big cattle, and Germaine 
felt much happier when she heard that they 
had been sold for farm purposes, and not for 
veal to the big butcher in his long white apron, 
who stood by, jingling his long knives that 
hung at his side from a chain around his 
waist. 

As they were near the bakers’, Marie sug- 
gested they buy a brioche , and take it home 
to eat with their chocolate. Brioche is a very 
delicate bread made with eggs and milk, and 
is esteemed as a great delicacy. The bakery 
looked very tempting filled with bread of all 
kinds and shapes, — sticks of bread a yard 
long, loaves like a big ring with a hole in the 
middle, big flat loaves which would nearly 


The Market at Grand Andelys 81 

cover a small table, twisted loaves and square 
loaves. 

When they had made their purchases and 
rejoined their mother, they found her with 
Madame Daboll, who told them that poor M. 
Masson, the wealthy mill-owner, who had been 
ill so long, was dead, and there was to be a 
grand funeral at the church of St. Sauveur the 
next day. 

In France great respect is paid to the dead, 
and funerals are conducted with as much pomp 
as one’s circumstances permit. 

M. Masson was connected, in one way or 
another, with nearly every one in the neighbour- 
hood, and the little church of St. Sauveur was 
crowded with the friends and relatives all in 
deep black, the men wearing a band of crape 
on the arm. Over the church door was a sort 
of black lambrequin with the letter M. em- 
broidered in silver. As the funeral passed 
through the streets, the “suisse” the clergy, 


82 Our Little French Cousin 


and the mourners, following the hearse on foot, 
made an impressive and solemn sight. As the 
cortege passed, all who met it bowed their 
heads or removed their hats, as is the custom 
all over Europe. 

The only thing out of place seemed to be 
the ugly wreaths made of black, white, and 
purple beads, with which the hearse was 
covered. To our taste they seem hideous, 
but Germaine thought the white bead lilies 
with black jet leaves very beautiful, for she was 
used to seeing the graves in the small cemetery 
covered with such tributes. 


CHAPTER VI. 


GERMAINE AND THE ARTIST 

All artists are fond of painting French 
country life, and there is no part that they like 
better than the picturesque old villages, farms, 
and apple-orchards of Normandy, while per- 
haps Les Andelys is one of their favourite 
stopping-places. 

Germaine had made many friends among 
them, for they often came to draw or paint 
the quaint jumble of old buildings at La 
Chaumiere. 

Germaine and the English artist who was 
staying at the Belle Etoile were great friends. 
He was painting near the farm, and he often 
dropped in to sit in their garden and drink a 
glass of cider. 


83 


84 Our Little French Cousin 


This warm bright morning Germaine could 
see his white umbrella under the apple-trees, 
whereupon she ran into the laiterie where her 
mamma was putting away butter in stone jars 
for winter use. 

“ Mamma, I see that Mr. Thomson is paint- 
ing again in the field. It is so hot. May I 
not take him a glass of cider ? ” 

“ Yes, truly, my little one, but do not stay 
too long, for I shall need you later to help 
me.” Madame Lafond knew that when her 
little daughter was watching the painting of a 
picture, she would forget all about how time 
flies. 

Germaine went into the dark cellar where 
the large casks of cider were kept cool, and 
drawing off a jug full, took a glass, and holding 
an umbrella over her, carefully carried it down 
the hillside to Mr. Thomson, who was lying 
full length on the grass, smoking vigorously 
and scowling at his picture. 


Germaine and the Artist 85 


“ Oh, Germaine,” he called out, when he 
caught sight of her, “ you are a jewel, a good 
little girl to bring me a cold drink. It was 
just what I wanted, and I was too lazy to walk 
up to the farm and ask for it. I am stuck and 
can’t do a bit of work. I don’t believe this 
picture is good for anything, after all.” 

Germaine could not believe this, for had she 
not heard Mr. Carter tell of pictures that Mr. 
Thomson had sold for so many thousands of 
francs that it took away her breath. Besides, 
did it not look just like her papa’s wheat-field, 
with a bit of the river showing between the 
trees ? 

She shook her head. “ I think it is a most 
beautiful picture,” she said as she looked at it 
admiringly. 

“ Oh ! if all the folk who buy pictures had 
your good taste, Germaine, how lucky we artist 
chaps would be,” he said, draining the cider 
jug. “ I feel much refreshed and must get to 


86 Our Little French Cousin 


work again, for the light is changing fast. Sit 
there in the shade, child, and tell me what you 
are going to do at the fete of St. Sauveur 
next week.” 

There was nothing Germaine liked better 
than to watch the picture grow under the 
quickly moving brushes ; and Mr, Thomson 
talked to her so pleasantly in his queer French 
that it amused her. Germaine never smiled, 
even when he made mistakes in grammar that 
a French child of eight would not have made. 

The French are a proverbially polite people, 
and at no time is their politeness so apparent 
as when a foreigner is speaking their language. 
They never laugh nor take the slightest no- 
tice of the worst blunders, but with the great- 
est pains try to understand them, and even 
go out of their way to set them right. 

But to-day it was not the fete that Germaine 
wanted to talk about. “Tell me more about 
Paris,” she said, shyly. 


Germaine and the Artist 87 


“ Oh, Germaine, you are just like all the 
world — wild about Paris,” laughed Mr. 
Thomson. He lived in Paris during the 
winter, and his big studio looked out on the 
fine old gardens of the Luxembourg, and from 
the windows could be seen the gilded dome of 
the Hotel des Invalides, under which is the 
tomb of the great Napoleon. 

It was the dream of Germaine’s life to see 
this wonderful city of Paris that she had heard 
so much about. So she listened eagerly when 
Mr. Thomson told her of the broad boule- 
vards shaded by chestnut-trees, with fine shops 
on either side, and the great avenue of the 
Champs Elysees, at the end of which stands 
the Arch of Triumph, erected by Napoleon in 
memory of his victories. 

Along this avenue passes the gay world of 
Paris in carriages, automobiles, and on foot, 
bound for the Bois de Boulogne. A part of 
this great park is set aside for the special use 


88 Our Little French Cousin 


of the children. No noisy automobile is 
allowed in this special enclosure, and carriages 
can only drive at a moderate pace. Here the 
Parisian mothers bring their children for a 
good time. They can romp over the grass 
and play among the pretty flower-beds ; have 
games of tennis, croquet, or battledore and 
shuttlecock (which is a favourite game with 
them), while their older relatives sit around on 
little camp-stools, which every one carries with 
them to the parks, and talk or do fancy work. 

There are ornamental refreshment houses 
where cakes and milk and sweet drinks can be 
had : thus it is a veritable children’s paradise ! 

“ But there is even more fun to be had in 
the gardens of the Tuileries ; there is where 
I would like to take you, Germaine,” said 
Mr. Thomson. 

“ There among bright flower-beds and 
shady alleys the little children play games 
around the feet of the marble statues ; roll 


Germaine and the Artist 89 

their hoops ; run after their toy balloons ; and 
trundle their dolls about, or sail toy boats with 
red, blue, or white sails, on the little pond, 
while their bonnes , or nurses we would call 
them, in their long cloaks and big caps with 
streamers of bright ribbons, sit gossiping on 
the benches. 

“ We would walk along until we found 
Guignol, which English and American girls and 
boys call c Punch and Judy ; ’ but they would 
enjoy it just as much as do the French chil- 
dren, for even though Mr. Punch and Mrs. 
Judy speak French, the show is just the same. 

“ And then we would go on a little farther 
and join the crowd standing around a man 
with birds flying all about him. He is the 
c bird charmer/ who seems to draw the birds 
to him by some magic. He whistles, and they 
perch on his head, shoulders, and hands, eat 
out of his mouth, and perform tricks on the 
stick he holds in his hand. This greatly 


go Our Little French Cousin 

amuses the children, and they are always ready 
to give the man a few sous, so it is a profit to 
him as well as an amusement. ,, 

Then there is the great Cathedral of Notre 
Dame, which is probably the best known 
church in all the world. It stands on the 
river bank, for Paris is built on either side of 
that same Seine that Germaine sees through 
the trees in the distance as she sits under the 
apple-trees on her father’s farm. 

Mr. Thomson tells her also of the new 
Palace of Art, where, among many thousands 
of others, he hopes to exhibit this picture he 
is now painting ; and of the beautiful Alexan- 
der III. bridge near it, with its lofty white 
columns crowned by the great golden-winged 
horses, named after a Czar of Russia, for the 
French and Russian people are very friendly. 

“Ah, yes! Paris is a great city,” Mr. 
Thomson would always say when he had 
finished. 


Germaine and the Artist 91 

£C Papa said when I was older perhaps he 
would take Marie and me there,” said Ger- 
maine. “ But now I must go,” she added, 
jumping up ; “mamma will be waiting for me 
to help her with the chickens,” and saying 
good-bye to her friend, Germaine ran toward 
the farmyard gate. 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE FETE OF ST. SAUVEUR 

St. Sauveur is the patron saint of Petit 
Andelys, and its little church is the church of 
St. Sauveur. 

Each year Petit Andelys, as do most of the 
towns of France, celebrates the fete-day of its 
patron, and does it so well that the lustre of 
the fete has spread far and wide, bringing 
many visitors, which pleases the good folk of 
the little town, for they are proud of it and 
everything connected therewith. 

The fete-day of St. Sauveur has no connec- 
tion whatever with Petit Andelys* big twin 
town of Grand Andelys, which has its own 
fete, but nothing like so grand. There is some 
little jealousy between the two Andelys. The 


92 


The Fete of St. Sauveur 93 

size and importance of Grand Andelys throws 
the other quite in the shade, but Petit Andelys 
has the river, and the people of Grand Andelys 
have to walk a dusty mile before they reach it, 
and that is one reason that visitors like the 
Belle Etoile. 

So Petit Andelys arranges its own fete. The 
mayor and its leading citizens organize com- 
mittees, and great preparations go on for weeks 
beforehand. 

One day the children running out of school 
at the noon hour saw, in the square in front 
of the church, many wagons with poles, and 
flapping canvas strewn about. These were the 
booths for the fair, which were being put up. 

The great attraction of every fete is its fair, 
and these foires , as the French also call them, 
move about the country from town to town in 
wagons like an old-fashioned circus, planning 
to reach an important town for some special 
occasion — such as its fete-day. 


94 Our Little French Cousin 

The participants in these fairs live in their 
lumbering wagons very much as do gipsies, 
selling all sorts of knickknacks, and perform- 
ing little plays, or feats of agility or strength. 

In a few days the little town was dressed 
out with flags and wreaths, gay streamers and 
paper lanterns. 

Marie and Germaine, who were staying at 
their Uncle Daboll’s for the fete, were awakened 
at five o'clock on the opening day by a succes- 
sion of terrific noises, which were set forth on the 
official programme as a “ Salvo of Artillery." 

They were soon dressed and out, but even 
at that early hour the whole town was astir. 
Later on the booths in the square opened up 
for business. 

There was a merry-go-round, “ flying horses " 
the children call them, with big pink pigs to 
ride on, and swings in the shape of boats, and 
a marvellous “wheel of fortune" for those 
who wanted to try their luck. 


The Fete of St. Sauveur 95 

Germaine never tired of admiring what 
seemed to her the most beautiful things set out 
for sale. 

Jean's great ambition was to hit some of the 
pipes in the shooting-gallery, and win a won- 
derful knife that contained everything from 
a corkscrew to a file. 

The real gaiety, however, only began in the 
evening, when a torchlight procession marched 
up and down the main streets. 

First came the “ Salvo of Artillery ” again, 
which, after all, was a very simple affair. A 
cartridge was placed on a paving-stone and 
struck with a big hammer. It made a tre- 
mendous noise, however, and everybody 
jumped, and Germaine put her fingers in her 
ears when she saw the hammer coming down. 

Behind came men and boys carrying lighted 
paper lanterns, and then the band of the pom- 
piers (the village fire department), and then 
more people, while all along the route was 


96 Our Little French Cousin 

burned red and green fire. Lanterns and 
fairy lamps in front of the houses and around 
the square were lighted, and the band played 
on a platform near the booths for the young 
people to dance. 

Jean rode on one of the pink pigs on the 
merry-go-round, but Marie and Germaine 
preferred the chairs shaped like swans, for 
they were afraid of slipping off the round 
pigs. The only trouble was that the man 
who had charge of these wonderful beasts cut 
the rides rather short. 

Uncle Daboll and M. Lafond broke several 
of the pipes in the shooting-gallery, and Ger- 
maine's papa even hit one of the funny paper 
ducks that kept bobbing up, and got a walk- 
ing-stick for his pains, but no one succeeded 
in hitting the white ball that swung at the end 
of a string. 

Germaine's mamma bought her a little toy 
laiterie , which looked just like the one at their 


The Fete of St. Sauveur 97 

farm. There was a little cow on one side, 
and in the other the milk-pans and churn — 
all true to life. 

Perhaps the booth which had the most cus- 
tom was the one with the gingerbread, which 
is a very popular variety of cake throughout 
France. Our little friends were soon there 
buying quite a menagerie of animals made of 
gingerbread. Jean chose a horse, Marie an 
elephant, and Germaine a cat, which, strange 
to say, was as big as Marie's elephant. 

Then they all crowded into the little thea- 
tre ; the funniest one you ever saw. The 
stage was made up out of a wagon, and the 
audience sat under an awning in front. There 
was no scenery, but a piece of cloth with a 
queer-looking picture painted on it, and the 
actors never changed their costumes once, but 
every one laughed and enjoyed it as much 
as if it had been the big theatre in Grand 
Andelys. 


98 Our Little French Cousin 


It was late when everybody got home, that 
is, it was ten o’clock, which is a very late hour 
for a French village, where every one is usually 
sound asleep by half-past eight or nine. The 
fete was to last a week, and every day had 
something new to offer. 

The next day Jean announced, “ There is a 
circus down on the quay,” as he burst into the 
kitchen where the family were gathered for 
breakfast. “The baker’s boy told me he 
could see them from the bakery. They came 
late last night, and are waiting to get permis- 
sion from the mayor to put up their tents in 
the town.” 

“ Oh, let’s go and see them at once ! ” said 
Marie and Germaine in the same breath. Jean 
quickly disposed of his breakfast by taking a 
slice of bread and eating it as he went. 

The quay presented a lively appearance in- 
deed. There were nearly a dozen gaudily 
painted wagons, while near by were tethered 


The Fete of St. Sauveur 99 

the horses. The women were preparing the 
morning meal outside the wagons, which served 
for houses, while the men fed the horses or 
fished in the river, and the children played 
about, or followed the visitors with outstretched 
hands asking for pennies. 

“ I should like to give them something/’ 
said Marie, cc but you know they are not 
allowed to beg while they are in the village, 
and we should not encourage them to break 
the law. I will go back, though, and ask 
aunty to give me some cakes for them,” and 
the kind-hearted girl ran back to Madame 
Daboll’s. 

Meanwhile Jean was wondering what was 
inside the wagons with CIRQUE painted in 
big black letters on their sides. Near a bright 
yellow van were tethered two goats which were 
carried for their milk. Goat’s milk is much 
used in France among the poorer classes, espe- 
cially in the southern part of the country, and 
l. Of 


ioo Our Little French Cousin 

the white goat's milk cheeses are rather good, 
when one gets used to the peculiar flavour. 

Germaine was getting acquainted with a lot 
of dark-skinned little children, who looked 
chubby and well taken care of in their neat 
cotton dresses. 

Their mother was a gipsy-like woman who 
had fancy baskets for sale, and she told Ger- 
maine she had nine children, which set 
Germaine to wondering how they all stowed 
themselves away in the one wagon. It was a 
big one, to be sure, divided into two rooms, 
and wonderfully compact, and as they sat and 
eat out-of-doors on the ground or the steps 
of their wagons, they could easily get on 
without tables and chairs. 

Here Marie came running up with her 
cakes, which she divided among the little ones 
who gathered about her. 

By this time they had got the desired per- 
mission to open up the circus on the square. 



THE CIRCUS 




The Fete of St. Sauveur ioi 


and that afternoon our three little friends had 
the pleasure of seeing the horse that could 
find a hidden handkerchief, the performing 
dogs, and all the other wonders of the 
show. 

The grand events of the fete were saved up 
for the last day. There were to be the sports 
in the afternoon, and a grand illumination and 
display of fireworks in the evening. The 
sports, in which the young boys were to take 
part, were held in the square. Jean was to 
participate in one of these, and was one of 
the first to be at the roped-in enclosure in 
the middle of which stood two high poles. 
Between these poles were hung a dozen or 
more tin buckets all filled with water, except 
the middle one. In this was a new five-franc 
piece. To each bucket was attached a string, 
and when a boy was blindfolded, and an enor- 
mous grotesque mask put over his head, it 
was a somewhat difficult task to walk up and 


102 Our Little French Cousin 


to pull the string of the bucket which held the 
five-franc piece. Should he pull any of the 
others, down would tumble a pail full of water 
all over him, amid the laughter and jeers of 
the bystanders. Jean had talked for weeks 
beforehand how he would spend the five francs 
if he were fortunate enough to win it. He 
had in imagination bought most of the things 
in M. Carre’s shop. Five francs, which is 
equal to one American dollar, was a big sum 
to a little French boy such as Jean. 

“ I do hope you will get it, Jean ! ” whis- 
pered Germaine ; “ remember to try and walk 
straight.” Jean was so excited as he groped 
his way along he could not have told whether 
he was going backwards or forwards. “ Oh, 
he will get it ! Keep where you are ! You’re 
in the right place ! ” shouted Jean’s friends, as 
they watched his hand touch the strings with 
indecision. Little Germaine held her breath. 
cc Oh, he has done it ! ” she cried, jumping up 


The Fete of St. Sauveur 103 

and down and clapping her hands. “ Marie, 
he has it ! ” as the bag with the five franc 
piece tumbled on top of his head. 

Jean was the hero of the hour among the 
children, and some of his prize was soon spent 
at one of the booths on sucre du pomme , which 
was distributed lavishly among his admiring 
friends. Sucre du pomme> by the by, is a very 
nice candy made in sticks of various sizes from 
sugar and the drippings of the cider apples. 
Each stick is carefully wrapped in a pretty 
paper, and tied together, in bundles of six or a 
dozen, with bright ribbons. 

Jean's father and M. Lafond took part in 
the men's sports on the river-front, but neither 
had Jean's luck. One feat was quite difficult. 
It was something like what children elsewhere 
know as “ climbing the greasy pole,” but in 
this case it was a bar that extended over the 
river, in which at regular intervals were placed, 
hanging downward, wooden pegs. These pegs 


104 Our Little French Cousin 

were well greased, and one had to swing him- 
self by his hands from one of these pegs to 
another in order to reach the extreme end 
of the bar, where was fastened a small bag 
of money. Well, you may imagine this was 
not easy to do, and generally about the third 
or fourth peg the participant would drop into 
the water with a splash, and be picked up by 
a waiting boat, to the intense amusement of 
the lookers-on, who thronged the banks of the 
river. After many trials, one venturesome 
fellow grabbed the bag just before he slipped 
off, taking it with him, however, into the water. 

After this came the diving matches and the 
swimming contests, and then everybody got 
ready for the evening's grand wind-up. In the 
Belle Etoile all was bustle and confusion ; 
the maids were flying about, for there were 
many visitors who had come in for the usual 
aperitif. The cafe was full, the gardens were 
filled up with extra tables, and M. Auguste 


The Fete of St. Sauveur 105 

was quite distracted in his endeavours to be 
polite and attentive to every one, besides stop- 
ping to take a glass with his friends, as was his 
custom. He had barely a moment to pat 
Germaine on the cheek, and to hear the story 
of Jean's success. 

Mr. Carter, with the help of the young lady 
artists, was hanging lanterns in the front win- 
dows, and getting ready a big lot of Roman 
candles as the contribution of the visitors of 
the Belle Etoile to the evening's gaieties, while 
Mimi, the white cat, sat in the doorway regard- 
ing things with her usual lofty air of superiority. 

As it grew dark, our two parties found them- 
selves once more on the quay, amid a great 
throng of tourists, country folk, visitors in 
automobiles and farm carts, on bicycles, and 
in lumbering 'buses from out-of-the-way 
villages. 

The prosaic little neighbourhood was changed 
for the night into a gorgeous panorama of light 


106 Our Little French Cousin 

and colour. The river banks burned with red, 
green, and white Bengal fires. Queer boats 
rigged with golden lamps, and sails of coloured 
lanterns, floated down the stream, and into the 
sky burst showers of gold and silver stars. 

Suddenly there was heard a great boom, and 
from the top of Chateau Gaillard rose a red 
cloud of fire, and the old walls and turrets 
stood out red against the dark blue sky, a 
beacon for miles of country roundabout. It 
was a mimic reproduction of the destruction of 
the grand old castle many hundreds of years 
ago. 

Germaine caught Marie’s hand, it seemed so 
real. It seemed as if her cherished playground 
were crumbling away, and that never again 
could she picture the great king and his knights 
riding out of its massive gateway to do battle 
against its foes. 

“ Ah ! Messieurs and Mesdames , is it not a 
wonderful sight ; a grand occasion for our 



chateau gaillard 





The Fete of St. Sauveur 107 

city ? ” The voice brought Germaine back to 
earth again. It was the indefatigable little sous- 
Commissaire , the one policeman of the village, 
speaking to them. The little man had come 
unwearied and triumphant through the excite- 
ments of the great day. Ah ! it was he who 
had managed it all so successfully ! It was he 
who had kept order among the vast throng. 
No other sous-Commissaire in all France could 
have done better, and the little man swelled 
with pride. 

The light had faded off the chateau ; the 
last rocket had been fired ; the band of the 
pompiers played the cc Marseillaise,” — the na- 
tional air, — and the great event of the year for 
Petit Andelys was over. 


I 


CHAPTER VIII. 


AN AUTOMOBILE JOURNEY 

Early one morning three of the happiest 
children in France were stowed away in the 
back of Mr. Carter’s big automobile. They 
were still more delighted when Pierre, Mr. 
Carter’s fine, black French poodle, jumped up 
on the seat beside him, looking very jaunty 
with his fore-locks tied up with a blue ribbon, 
and as complacent as if he was driving the auto 
himself, 

“ I thought we would go by way of La 
Roche-Guyon to Mantes and have lunch there, 
and then come back by way of Vernon ; that 
ought to show you children a bit of the 
country,” said Mr. Carter. 

The children were ready for anything, and 

108 




An Automobile Journey 109 

off they went at a pace that nearly took away 
their breath. 

They were soon flying through rolling farm- 
lands, where the various crops were planted in 
such regular fields that they looked like a great 
patchwork quilt, with squares of green, yellow, 
and brown spread out for miles. There were 
no divisions by fences or hedges, except some- 
times at each corner of a farm a small white 
stone marked the boundary. Suddenly, they 
slowed down. 

“ Here is something which always stops me,” 
said Mr. Carter. “ It is like running into a 
big spider’s web.” 

A woman coming up the road was driving 
eight or nine cows, each attached to a long 
rope, which she held in her hand. It seemed 
like a maze to an outsider, but she drew in 
first one rope, and then twisted another, 
and pulled back another, until she finally 
got her charges to one side of the road. 


no Our Little French Cousin 


The cows are taken out to pasture, where 
there are no regular fields where they may run 
loose. So they must be guarded in this manner, 
and when they have eaten one spot up clean, 
they are taken on to another. 

Farther up the road two children were 
watching some goats on the side of the road, 
but in this case each goat's rope was tied to an 
iron stake which was driven in the ground, so 
the children could amuse themselves until it 
was time to move the animals on to a fresh 
bit of pasturage. 

“Your horses wear gay clothes," said Mr. 
Carter, as they passed a great lumbering wagon, 
swung between two big wheels, drawn tandem- 
wise, — that is, one horse in front of the other, 
— by five heavy-limbed Norman horses. 

Around their big clumsy wooden collars, 
which are usually painted in bright colours, 
was draped a dark blue sheepskin blanket. 
On their heads bobbed big tassels of blue 


An Automobile Journey in 

and red ; or blue, red, and yellow, which so 
dangled in their eyes that one wonders how 
they could see at all. 

The leader was more finely dressed than the 
others. His neck-blanket had long stole-like 
ends, that hung almost to the ground, and an 
extra high collar with more tassels. All this 
may not be comfortable for the horses, but 
they looked so very picturesque, one hopes 
that they did not mind it. 

The automobile now whizzed by a team of 
slow-moving cream-coloured oxen, — beautiful 
beasts with yokes twisted around their horns 
instead of around their necks. They never 
so much as lifted their sleepy eyes to look at 
our party. 

cc This is another frequent obstacle in the 
way of the automobilist, ,, said Mr. Carter, as 
they came in sight of a flock of sheep with 
their shepherd, which completely blocked up 
the road, “ But I do not object to stopping 


1 12 Our Little French Cousin 

in this case, for it is worth one’s while to watch 
the sheep-dogs do their work.” 

The children stood up in the auto and 
watched the amusing performance with much 
interest, and Pierre barked his appreciation. 
The dogs knew perfectly well which side of 
the road must be left open for the automobile, 
and they began to drive the sheep toward the 
other side, pushing them and barking at 
them ; the slow ones they would catch by the 
wool, give them a little shake, as much as to 
say “ you had better move quickly,” and then 
pull them out of the way, looking back every 
few minutes to see how near to them was the 
automobile. 

“They act with as much judgment as 
human beings,” said Mr. Carter, as he care- 
fully steered through the flock. The shep- 
herd, who had let the dogs do the work, was 
a fine-looking fellow, in a long grayish white 
cloak, striped with colour, which made him 


An Automobile Journey 113 

look like a shepherd of Bible times. In the 
field near by stood his house, a kind of big 
box on wheels, just large enough for him and 
his dogs to sleep in, which he could move 
about where he liked. 

They were now running down a long, steep 
hill into La Roche-Guyon. 

cc Look ! ” cried Germaine, “ there are chim- 
neys and stovepipes coming up out of the 
ground ; is it not funny ? ” 

“ Those are the cave-dwellings,” explained 
Mr. Carter. cc These people have cut their 
houses in the side of the cliff ; you can see the 
openings to them, often in tiers one above 
the other, and those chimneys you see come 
from the houses. There are many such dwell- 
ings all over the country, especially along 
the other great river of France, the Loire.” 

cc Are people living in them?” asked Jean, 
“ and how can they see in them ? Are they 
not dark and gloomy ? ” 


1 14 Our Little French Cousin 

“Well, as you can see, there is always a 
door and often one or two windows. The 
poorer people do sometimes live in them, 
though not so much as they used to many 
years ago when the French peasant was much 
worse off than he is now. The working peo- 
ple are now building and owning their own 
little homes, and these caves are being used 
more for storehouses and, in the grape dis- 
tricts, for cellars in which to store the wine-crop.” 

“ I should not like to live in the ground 
like that,” declared Jean. 

They only stopped long enough in the 
town to look at the big chateau, which to-day 
belongs to the noble French family in whose 
possession it has been for hundreds of years. 
This splendid building was very odd, for the 
back had been built into the high chalk-cliff 
which towers above it. 

“ I can see the towers of a big church in 
the distance,” said Germaine, presently. 


An Automobile Journey 1 1 5 

“ That is the church of Mantes, and we 
shall soon be in the town,” replied Mr. Car- 
ter. “ It is said that this church was built by 
William the Conqueror to replace one that 
was destroyed while he was besieging the town, 
and it was at this same siege that he was mor- 
tally wounded.” 

After lunch and a walk around the town, 
they started for home over a fine broad road 
shaded with trees. 

“This is a c National Road, said Jean. 
“ Papa told me about ' these great highways 
laid out all over France by the great Napoleon, 
so that soldiers could be moved easily from 
one part of the country to another.” 

c< Oh, look ! What is that big gray thing 
in the sky just above that clump of trees? It 
looks like a fish,” suddenly cried Marie, as 
they were passing a small village lying just off 
the highroad. 

cc Why, bless me if it is not an air-ship ! ” 


ii6 Our Little French Cousin 


ejaculated Mr. Carter. “ I remember now 
that the big sugar manufacturer lives near here, 
who is so much interested in flying-machines, 
and every now and again he sends one up to 
find out how his experiments are getting on. 
Well, children, that is a sight for you that I did 
not anticipate. Who knows, however, but 
what you will live yet to see a flying-machine 
express going between Rouen and Paris, stop- 
ping at Les Andelys to take up passengers/* 

This was sufficient to give the party some- 
thing to talk about until they reached Vernon, 
where they stopped at a pretty riverside cafe 
to have a strop de groseille> and, as Mr. Carter 
jokingly said, to rest the horses. 

It was still early when they again came in 
sight of Chateau Gaillard, and so ended a bliss- 
ful day for our young people, who had some- 
thing to talk about for many a long winter 
evening. 


THE END. 


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A story of a boy’s life battle, his early defeat, and his 
final triumph, well worth the reading. 


COSY CORNER SERIES 


3 


By EDITH ROBINSON 

A Little Puritan’s First Christmas. 

A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how 
Christmas was invented by Betty Sewall, a typical child 
of the Puritans, aided by her brother Sam. 

A Little Daughter of Liberty. 

The author’s motive for this story is well indicated by 
a quotation from her introduction, as follows : 

“ One ride is memorable in the early history of the 
American Revolution, the well-known ride of Paul 
Revere. Equally deserving of commendation is another 
ride, — the ride of Anthony Severn, — which was no less 
historic in its action or memorable in its consequences.” 

A Loyal Little Maid. 

A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary 
days, in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, 
renders important services to George Washington. 

A Little Puritan Rebel. 

This is an historical tale of a real girl, during the 
time when the gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of 
Massachusetts. 

A Little Puritan Pioneer. 

The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement 
at Charlestown. The little girl heroine adds another to 
the list of favorites so well known to the young people. 

A Little Puritan Bound Girl. 

A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great 
interest to youthful readers. 

A Little Puritan Cavalier. 

The story of a “ Little Puritan Cavalier ” who tried 
with all his boyish enthusiasm to emulate the spirit and 
ideals of the dead Crusaders. 


4 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


By MISS MULOCK 

The Little Lame Prince. 

A delightful story of a little boy who has many adven- 
tures by means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother. 

Adventures of a Brownie. 

The story of a household elf who torments the cook 
and gardener, but is a constant joy and delight to the 
children who love and trust him. 

His Little Mother. 

Miss Mulock’s short stories for children are a constant 
source of delight to them, and “ His Little Mother,” in 
this new and attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts 
of youthful readers. 

Little Sunshine’s Holiday. 

An attractive story of a summer outing. “ Little Sun- 
shine ” is another of those beautiful child-characters for 
which Miss Mulock is so justly famous. 


By JULIANA HOB APIA EWING 

Jackanapes. 

A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite 
and touching story, dear alike to young and old. 

Story of a Short Life. 

This beautiful and pathetic story will never grow old. 
It is a part of the world’s literature, and will never die. 

A Great Emergency. 

How a family of children prepared for a great emer- 
gency, and how they acted when the emergency came. 


COSY CORNER SERIES 


5 


By OUIDA ( Louise de la Ramie ) 

A Dog of Flanders : a Christmas Story. 

Too well and favorably known to require description. 

The Nurnberg Stove. 

This beautiful story has never before been published 
at a popular price. 


By FRANCES MARGARET FOX 

The Little Giant’s Neighbours. 

A charming nature story of a “ little giant ” whose 
neighbours were the creatures of the field and garden. 

Farmer Brown and the Birds. 

A little story which teaches children that the birds 
are man’s best friends. 

Betty of Old Mackinaw. 

A charming story of child-life, appealing especially to 
the little readers who like stories of “ real people.” 

Mother Nature’s Little Ones. 

Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or 
“ childhood,” of the little creatures out-of-doors. 

How Christmas Came to the Mul- 
vaneys. 

A bright, life-like little story of a family of poor chil- 
dren, with an unlimited capacity for fun and mischief. 
The wonderful never-to-be-forgotten Christmas that came 
to them is the climax of a series of exciting incidents. 


6 


Z. C. PAGE AND COMPANY’S 


By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE 

The Farrier’s Dog and His Fellow. 

This story, written by the gifted young Southern 
woman, will appeal to all that is best in the natures of 
the many admirers of her graceful and piquant style. 

The Fortunes of the Fellow. 

Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm 
of “The Farrier’s Dog and His Fellow” will welcome 
the further account of the adventures of Baydaw and 
the Fellow at the home of the kindly smith. 

The Best of Friends. 

This continues the experiences of the F arrier’s dog and 
his Fellow, written in Miss Dromgoole’s well-known 
charming style. 

Down in Dixie. 

A fascinating story for boys and girls, of a family of 
Alabama children who move to Florida and grow up in 
the South. 


By MARIAN W. WILDMAN 

Loyalty Island. 

An account of the adventures of four children and 
their pet dog on an island, and how they cleared their 
brother from the suspicion of dishonesty. 

Theodore and Theodora. 

This is a story of the exploits and mishaps of two mis- 
chievous twins, and continues the adventures of the 
interesting group of children in “ Loyalty Island.” 



































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